


Dreams

by Amymel86



Series: The Reality of Dreams [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Catelyn is alive, F/M, Jon is kinda dark, a little bit, drabble event, he's salty mainly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28957155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: She is different though. Whatever those southern monsters did to his sweet sister has changed her profoundly. He watches her now, pushing her pie crust around her plate with a knife. Lady Stark clears her throat loudly, purposefully. A warning for him to stop staring at her precious, delicate daughter. Jon rolls his eyes. Stabs his venison with a dagger. Leaves it there as he rises.Sansa stands almost as soon as he does, intent on following him; a habit she’s formed over the past few days. He cannot say he minds it, though her mother always intervenes.“Sansa, leave him be,” the lady barks now.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: The Reality of Dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123928
Comments: 48
Kudos: 179
Collections: Jonsa New Year Drabbles





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> i have a couple more drabbles within this au though the 'story' isn't yet finished...

**Dreams**

Everyone is different now. The passing of time and troubles will do that to a person, Jon supposes. He tries to pretend that he is not the most different of them all – that he doesn’t remember the claws of death and how they pierced his skin to rupture his hold on himself.

Sometimes, he feels more like Ghost than Jon, even when he has not slipped into the wolf’s head. Even when he’s stalking upright around the halls of Winterfell, sword at his hip, cloak hung on his shoulders. Sometimes, he’d rather snarl and bite than slice with his steel – would rather cast aside his leathers and stride around as nude as a beast.

A cruel amusement twists his lips to think of it now as he sits at Lady Starks table. How would she respond to that? She wants to send him away again – of course she does – had nearly achieved her goal. Jon had almost killed the two Stark guards she’d sent to see him out the gates.

But then _she’d_ pled.

Sansa.

It had been the first words to leave her lips since he’s seen her. Lady Stark had gasped and spun at the noise.

“ _No! Don’t send him away! Please, mother!”_

Sansa may be just as changed as he – though Jon doubts she can still feel the lull of an eternal sleep like he can.

She _is_ different though. Whatever those southern monsters did to his sweet sister has changed her profoundly. He watches her now, pushing her pie crust around her plate with a knife. Lady Stark clears her throat loudly, purposefully. A warning for him to stop staring at her precious, delicate daughter. Jon rolls his eyes. Stabs his venison with a dagger. Leaves it there as he rises.

Sansa stands almost as soon as he does, intent on following him; a habit she’s formed over the past few days. He cannot say he minds it, though her mother always intervenes.

“ _Sansa, leave him be_ ,” the lady barks now.

“Yes, sweet sister,” Jon says. “Stay, eat your meal. I am away to bathe.”

“We bathe together,” Sansa spurts as she stands there, staring at him, swaying a little.

Lady Stark blinks. “What?”

“In-in my dream. Jon and I bathe in the hot spring and we make love beneath the heart tree.” Her brow pinches as though she’d not known the words to come from her mouth until they’d met her ears.

Lady Stark blanches. “Sansa, what on earth-?”

Jon is ashamed to admit to himself that his cock thickens at the thought.

“ _In my dreams_ ,” Sansa near whispers, staring at him and ignoring her mother. “It happens every time in my dreams.”

The air in the room is frigid despite the crackle of the fire. Lady Stark’s chair legs scrape painfully against the stone floor as she stands, the meal now completely forgotten by all. “I will not hear any more of these disgusting notions, Sansa.”

“It’s not disgusting,” Sansa says, only just now looking to her mother. “We are married. In my dream. Jon and I are married and-...” this is the most he has known her to say since Jon had returned to Winterfell. “And we love each other as man and wife.”

Her eyes are on him again as she says those final words. He cannot bring himself to look away.

“ _Enough!”_ her mother bellows. “It cannot be. He is your bastard brother! I’ll have no more talk of unholy dreams.”

“ _But it can be!”_ Sansa says, voice the firmest he’s ever heard it, before she whines as though in pain, fingers coming up to massage her temple. “In my dreams there’s-“ Sansa’s eyes screw shut. She’s searching for something in that troubled mind of hers. “ _There’s a reason_ ,” she mutters to herself. “There’s a _reason_ we can marry. I can’t-... _I can’t_ remember...”

**Author's Note:**

> don't ask me... I'm just messing around with ideas lol


End file.
